"I need some air," I said to Allison when I stepped out of my bedroom.
"But it's pouring out there."
I glared at her as she leaped from the couch. "Let me get my jacket."
Soon we were heading away from the bungalows, along a dirt path that led deeper into the surrounding woods. The island itself was sort of long and narrow.
The ocean would be only a half mile or so on either side. Although not huge, the island was choked with evergreens and ferns and something called stinging nettles, which Tara had warned us about.
I could give a damn about stinging nettles.
Even though it was only midday, the woods were dark. But here, under the canopy of evergreens, the storm was nearly non-existent, reduced to only a persistent, howling wind - and a few heavy drops.
The path before us was mostly dirt. I could see deer tracks in the mud, and what was surely a dog's tracks, although they could have been coyotes. I frowned at that. I didn't think coyotes were on the island.
Allison looked miserable and cold.
She buried her face in her oversized jacket. Myself, I was wearing only a light windbreaker. I was fairly certain my body temperature was even lower than the surrounding wind and rain.
I veered off on a smaller side-trail, and there we found a massive tree with the widest trunk I'd ever seen. I stopped and turned to Allison, who'd been following with her head mostly ducked, doing her best not to trip over the many exposed tree roots.
"We need to talk," I said.
"I figured that."
"We might be in some deep shit."
"I figured that, too."
"I just talked to Kingsley."
"The werewolf."
"Yes."
"Your ex-boyfriend."
"Yes."
"You do realize that a vampire dating a werewolf is a little too...cliched?"
"Allison..."
"Sorry, sorry...you were saying?"
"There's some scary shit going on here. Kingsley's coming out."
"What? Why?"
"He thinks I'm in way over my head."
"Sam, from what you've told me, you've faced some crazy shit."
"Maybe none crazier than this."
"Even crazier than me?" asked Allison.
I laughed. I needed that. The tree branches high above us swished and swayed violently. Never had I seen trees like this. So tall, so beautiful. Now as I stood there in the forest, I noticed little balls of light moving about. These bright balls stopped often at plants and at the bases of trees. I watched one stop near a toadstool.
Allison caught my thoughts, and said, "I see those lights, too, sometimes. At parks, and sometimes on my balcony garden at home."
"What are they?"
"If I had to guess, I would say fairies."
I snorted.
"Scoffs the vampire," said Allison, shaking her head. "You, better than most, should know that there are some strange things under the sun...or under the moon."
"But fairies?" I asked. "With little wings? Like Tinker Bell?"
"Think of them as nature spirits, Sammie. And no little wings, as far as I can tell. Just peaceful, loving entities that tend to Mother Earth."
I watched the lights flit around the forest some more, dozens of them. Many dozens. They were often the same size, each no bigger than a tennis ball, and their colors ranged from light blue to burning white. One sidled up next to us, slipped between my legs and moved over to a dying fern. It moved carefully over the plant, touching down on each outstretched branch, and then moved on. I sensed, on some level, that it was comforting the dying plant. Weird, yes, but I found the gesture oddly touching.
"So, what do we do, Sam?" asked Allison after a moment or two.
"We don't do anything. I need to find out what the hell is going on here. You're going to stay in the bungalow - and stay out of trouble."
She was about to protest when she saw the look in my eye. "Fine, I'll stay out of trouble, but I want you to know that I'm lodging a formal complaint."
"Duly noted," I said.
"So, then, what are you going to do?"
she asked, ducking as a particularly large glob of water splattered on her nose.
"I'm going to have a little talk with our client."
"Tara? But isn't she one of them?"
"Exactly," I said, and turned and headed back through the forest, with Allison stumbling and cursing behind me.
